Tag Archives: Writing

Another view from up above. Despite my neighbors bare feet in my peripheral, I feel more connected to the Heavens today. Maybe it’s an omen of something beautiful that is about to occur. Maybe it’s because I have spent a lot of time thinking about the Universe and trying to truly understand it. Maybe it is due to major life changes that have occurred, with and without my decision. All I know is that today is the first day in a long time that I am particularly hopeful. I just wanted to share that with you.

As well as I am finally confident enough to share with you some writings I’ve had in my notes for a very long time. Obviously being in the sky makes me feel a certain way.

How does it make you feel? Let me know!

-Mary A.

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I watch a transparent, hazy sheet of thin clouds slowly cover itself over the sleeping town below. They can’t see us, as we are momentarily masked by the darkness of night and solitude. Suddenly our divider is lifted just enough, the evening sky hazy but able to form a contact. I wonder if anyone is looking up, laying perfectly still in silence, on a trampoline in the front yard as I did growing up, watching the stars shift and the sky change as the universe and its people collide. I see the entire town, lit up brilliantly, lights shimmering here and there, from the window of a 747. They can see us again, if only they look up at our blinking wings of souls and living, breathing beings. We are simultaneously moving, always connected, with the sky and it’s people below.

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Where the stars guide me

I am minuscule and important as I look out to the stars from 30,000 ft in the air. If I focus I can almost see the enormity of the galaxy. I can picture every ball of gas burning brightly as they make this one whole, brilliant moment. The light lit towns below me are partially covered in a thin veil of clouds. I can almost feel the mist on my skin. And in the areas where it is a deep darkness and I question how below this metal tube in the sky it really is, I can sense the solitude and fulfillment of being covered by the mass of question and of life.

I am both minuscule and important in this world. I feel it all so strongly as the night sky moves with me. As the North Star guided the explorers, I am directed past lively cities, sleepy towns, and everything in between. I am just a small girl but up here, I am everything the stars and galaxies want me to be.

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I was watching the scarlet sun burn its way over the horizon, turning the distant sky layers of peach and gold over the ivory shimmering water. I couldn’t help but think to myself that in this world, if ever it came to dust, if all mankind had stolen life from another and the earth was barren of civilization as we knew it, the dust would settle and the horizon would still burn strongly and brilliantly, fiercely making its way towards a new day and a new dawn. We just wouldn’t be around to see it, but we know, it would still be beautiful.

I have been facing a deep struggle lately. I spend my life in a metal tube in the sky. Often I cannot differentiate my days as they begin to blur together after the third hotel room. All Hilton, DoubleTrees, Marriotts look the exact same. I text the ones I love, but it isn’t at all the same as a physical touch. I miss coming home to a house that feels like an actual home.

So I’ve been thinking about that word a lot lately. What it means to me to have a home. Well, I’m going to share it with you and hopefully afterward, I can begin to visualize it again into my future.

I have many roots in many grounds around the world. I am spread out amongst beaches, scattered along wide, open Texas roads, emotionally stamped onto a special person. Home is a Texas sunset, brilliant and vivid. It is the distinct salty air of South Padre Island across from the Tiki, my favorite childhood vacationing condominium. It is listening to country music at Saturday mass with my family while Father Roy speaks about his “dear ol’ boat”. It is having home made chocolate cake in the kitchen because mom knows how much I love it. It is being sticky and sweaty because humidity hugs me like an old friend. Home is deep conversations with Rey and Brianda that help me feel better about life. It is my home town that I fought so hard to leave and miss every day that I’m away.

It is in every destination that I allow myself to feel something in. It is in the Green Grotto in Capri that I swam in freezing water through. It is in Paris, with rosy cheeks and sore ankles because I wore the wrong shoes once again. It is in hostels where my friends and I felt alive (and poor). It is in Ireland along the windy cliffs that introduced me to international travel. In Seattle because I wanted to fit in with its hip-photo-loving vibe for so long. It is in every cup of café américain sans sucré that I ordered in Caen. In so many other beautiful, memorable destinations that I have gotten to go to, with this flight attendant life and outside of it. But how can I even explain what home feels so strongly like to me right now, as I write this on another airplane?

It is warmth. It is a constant, so satisfying warmth that is created through the perfect long awaited moment. It is everything I feel the moment distance is over. It is never ending laughter because in reality, we’re both idiots. It is being on that airplane with you. It is every embrace, every goodnight kiss, every “I love you, too.”

Home isn’t just one place for me. It may not be for you either. My boards are built along vast valleys, underneath star-filled skies, amongst the waves, and on top of mountains. They are secured by unknowing kind strangers, by those that know and love me, and by my past selves. I will live in these homes for the rest of my life. Right now, I am looking forward to going home.

I was watching the scarlet sun burn its way over the horizon, turning the distant sky layers of peach and gold over the ivory shimmering water. I couldn’t help but think to myself that in this world, if ever it came to dust, if all mankind had stolen life from another and the earth was barren of civilization as we knew it, the dust would settle and the horizon would still burn strongly and brilliantly, fiercely making its way towards a new day and a new dawn. We just wouldn’t be around to see it, but we know, it would still be beautiful.

I write a lot of first sentences in my head. Lately the words haven’t just been bouncing around- they have been fighting their way out. I feel like there are voices in my head: poetic voices, rhythmic voices, strong voices.

I need to let them out.

It’s 4:42 AM in Germany. The sky is lightening up by the minute. I’m breathing in air conditioned bus air. I’m listening to lively Lukas Graham music to compensate for the dreary mood I was in all yesterday. I’m feeling better. I wrote this on a plane yesterday. Not literally, not on paper or online, but in my head. Recycled cabin oxygen filled my lungs and I couldn’t tell the difference between my pantyhose and my skin anymore. I pictured a prune, dry and wrinkled, “I am becoming a prune. This is happening to me.” I couldn’t take it anymore. “Maybe I should quit,” quietly sneaks into my minded novel. I stare at the vibrant, pee-colored lavatory signs that say “It’s busy” and “No, you cannot get up right now. Hold it.” I’m writing this in my head as I sit in my jumpseat and stare off into the distance. No, not out to the beautiful German landscape I’m landing in after a 20 hour work day (our 767 doors have a tiny hole as a window we’re supposed to use- ha!). I’m just staring off into the distance; I’m trying to find my distance.

It’s 4:51AM in Germany. It’s time for another 20 hour work day again. It’s time for recycled cabin oxygen, airplane food, dry eyes, and pressurized bodies. Today though, I’m okay. I’m ready to breathe in what I can and smile all day. The words I wanted to write are finally out and I’m feeling better today. These are the words I wanted to write yesterday, only the ending is different. Today I’m better than okay and I’m ready for work.

Hi, everyone! It has been a little while since I’ve written and I apologize for that. I’ve been trying to figure out some of the important questions currently going on in my life, to not much success. Once again, here I sit outside of my comparative politics course, escaping the sudden cold front that has made it’s way down into Texas. The day I have been patiently waiting for and yet I forget my gloves. Okay, so now for the future part. What are you all doing with your “future”s? What are you all doing now? Honestly, I’m really struggling on finding any answers. I thought that as I went to university- because I went to university- I’d have an answer by now. I know that I have one more semester to get my shit together (sorry), but I’m still zoning in on absolutely no ideas about the future. Actually, that’s not true. My options include: apply to grad school (which I don’t want to do anymore), go live abroad (which I have no money to do), move to seattle (which I so badly want to do, but with nothing To do), stay in Texas (Which I’d rather not do), become a flight attendant (which is always an option and I’ve always wanted to do), join the peace corps (which I’m interested in but not entirely certain of). That’s where my list ends. It ends with a dead ended looped vein of confusion. I’m entirely open to suggestions at this point. To this I ask- what are you guys doing? Is this the future you wanted for yourself? Are you happy with your future?

(It’s not actually this cold here in Texas, but to me it feels this way)